


a pleasure to meet you

by PersonalSpin



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Based on a Tumblr Post, Dragon!Iron Bull, Kidnapping, M/M, Meet-Ugly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-28
Updated: 2017-03-28
Packaged: 2018-10-11 23:38:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10477158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PersonalSpin/pseuds/PersonalSpin
Summary: Dorian’s first hint that not everything was as it seemed was Felix exiting his study followed by a handsome mercenary.Dorian’s second hint was the very large dragon that fell out of the sky in front of him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> > daily-dragon-facts posted: Dragons don’t kidnap princesses, they rescue them from forced heterosexual romance.

Dorian’s first hint that not everything was as it seemed was Felix exiting his study followed by a handsome mercenary. “Dorian,” Felix called, beckoning him over. “This is Lieutenant Aclassi, he’s part of the group that’ll be escorting you home.”

Dorian hastily pushed all his books under an arm so he could shake the Lieutenant’s hand. “How do you do. My apologies I couldn’t meet you sooner, I was --”

“--Studying,” Felix said dryly at the same moment as Dorian. “You’ve done little else since you got here.” He smiled, taking the sting from his words. “It’s no problem, we were able to settle everything between the two of us. They can take you all the way to the Tevinter border.”

Dorian was slow to respond. “Truly? How convenient.” He wanted to ask again if Felix didn’t need Dorian to stay, just for another week or two. Just until he was stronger, just until Dorian was sure there was nothing to be done for him.

They’d argued it over already, and repeating it would waste what little strength Felix could spare. Besides, arguing in front of a stranger was just unseemly. So Dorian just turned to Aclassi and nodded stiffly at him. “Well, I hope you and your troupe are worth the money Felix is paying.”

“Don’t worry, Altus,” Aclassi said with the faintest smirk. “The Charger’s will take good care of you.”

***

Dorian’s second hint was the very large dragon that fell out of the sky in front of him. It roared like a thunderstrike, a sudden crash of noise that shook the trees around them and startled Dorian’s mare into rearing and throwing Dorian to the ground. He landed badly, his arm twisting beneath him with a sickening crunch. The pain didn’t register through the sheer blinding terror of meeting a dragon, however.

Dorian tried to roll to his feet and grab his staff from his back, not knowing what he could do against a dragon but needing his weapon in his hand, but a mercenary’s horse collided with him and sent him tumbling back to the ground. Hopefully the mercenaries could at least distract it; it was difficult casting when Dorian was distracted by just how very large the dragon was, how the sunlight turned its scales to molten silver.

The dragon loomed, staring down at them with a single eye. Dorian barely had his staff raised before it lunged, snapping his staff in two like a twig between its teeth. It snarled at Dorian, sending an exquisite shock of fear through him.

Something descended over his head, choking him with the sudden darkness and the overwhelming smell of rotten vegetables. Dorian grabbed at it, feeling rough burlap before his hands were wrenched away and tied together. Stupidly, all he could think was that this was very un-dragon-like.

Distinctly elvhen hands hoisted him up off the ground and marched him away from the group. Rather than the cries of fear and pain one would expect from a band of mercenaries fighting a dragon, there was... laughter? Dorian stumbled as the realisation hit that he’d been had. “Vishante kaffas.” 

The elf just snorted and kept tugging him forward. Dorian was unceremoniously dumped on the grass beside the path, knocking the air out of his lungs and jostling his wrist painfully. Definitely broken. “Stay there,” the elf said, the one with the knives. Dorian huffed, too startled and in too much pain to think of something. He didn’t honestly know if a retort existed to equal a group that had used their pet dragon to kidnap him. When he got out of this, Dorian was going to feed Felix to the blighted dragon himself.

The mercenaries had apparently decided that now was a good time to stop for lunch. Dorian was thoroughly ignored as they set up camp, pulling food from saddlebags and chatting amongst themselves. The conversation didn’t so much as stutter when there was a sucking-popping sound, like the aftermath of a massive fireball, though Dorian flinched and waited for the wave of heat that never arrived. If there was any reaction from the mercenaries, it was only Aclassi raising his voice.

“Shit, Chief, that could have gone cleaner.”

“He’s still in one piece, isn’t he? C’mon, Krem de la creme, lighten up.”

Dorian didn’t recognise the second voice; he had only been travelling with the mercenary band for a couple of hours and didn’t know any of their names beyond Aclassi. It didn’t sound like either of the elves though, or the dwarf, or the taciturn pair of humans. He had a deep rolling voice Dorian would have noticed if only because it was exactly the kind of voice Dorian most enjoyed hearing flatter him.

“Why do you always have to make an entrance?” Aclassi grouched, Chief’s apparent good mood not at all rubbing off on him.

“When people pay for a dragon to kidnap them, they want a dragon. It’s just good business sense giving them what they paid for.”

“This one didn’t pay us. He just had a dragon jump on him before Skinner’s horse nearly trampled him to death.”

Chief grunted. “It’s easy to judge when it’s not your horns on the line. You have to take mages by surprise if you want to catch them before the spells start flying.” He made another rough noise, sounding distinctly irritated. “Think his staff’s got stuck between my teeth.”

Dorian snorted loudly under his hood. Aclassi and Chief’s conversation stopped and Dorian stiffened, suddenly aware that he was still in the middle of being kidnapped.

“Something funny, Vint?” Chief asked. It was hard to judge the tone without seeing his face, but Dorian had never let something so small stop him before.

“I only wish I had spent less time polishing that staff,” Dorian said, loud enough to be heard and as tartly as possible.

“Chief\--”

“Spend a lot of time ‘polishing’ your staff, do you?” There was unmistakably a leer in his voice, and the other mercenaries all groaned.

“Fuck’s sake, Chief--

“--Andraste’s knickers--”

“--Don’t get paid enough--”

The sack was pulled off Dorian’s head and he blinked, blinded by the midday sun. “Sorry,” Chief said, “didn’t mean to leave that on you.”

Chief definitely hadn’t been part of the group that had left Val Royeaux with Dorian. Large, scarred and Qunari would have gotten Dorian’s attention at even his most distracted, and there was very little that could have made him miss someone so very tall and muscular. “Ah, well, yes,” Dorian said, a little lost for words. “It should be a crime to hide a face like mine for so long.”

“Ha! I can believe it.” The Qunari then did something very strange; he crouched down and passed Dorian a bread roll from out of his saddlebags. “Dorian, right?”

Dorian took the bread roll with his bound hands, trying not to look as confused as he felt as he nodded.

“I’m the Iron Bull, with the article, and these are my Chargers.” The Iron Bull grinned at Dorian, who smiled back on impulse. Then Dorian noticed the dark flecks caught between the Qunari’s teeth, and the shards of wood on his barrel chest and broad shoulders. He was missing an eye, and his horns bore an uncanny resemblance to the dragon’s -- which was now conspicuously absent.

Dorian scowled at the Iron Bull, feeling oddly betrayed. “You’re a little small for a dragon.”

“You’re a little bratty for a hostage,” the Bull retorted with a smirk.

“I refuse to act like just anyone whisked away by a dragon and his thugs.”

“Thugs, are we?” the dwarf said, looking a little hurt.

“I always thought we were more like ruffians,” said the elf with the vallaslin. “Hooligans, maybe, or troublemakers.”

“You think a lot about being kidnapped?” the Bull asked, looking at Dorian with a gleam in his eye.

Dorian tilted his head and attempted to look down his nose at the Bull, despite still being on his ass. “If I had, I should be disappointed right now. All you’ve managed to do so far is break my wrist and smother me with a sack.”

The Bull’s eye snapped down to his hands, cradled against Dorian’s chest as his wrist throbbed to his heartbeat. He reached out and Dorian immediately pulled away, feeling his face go tight when pain lanced down his arm. It really was beginning to hurt a great deal. “Alright, big guy, gimme a moment.” The Bull looked over his shoulder and whistled for one of his men.

One of the humans trotted over, took one look at Dorian slowly curling in on himself to protect his wrist, and clucked his tongue. “Knew that fall was a bad one.” The medic regarded Dorian for a moment with a shrewd look. “Those are gonna have to come off,” he said, nodding at the rope binding Dorian’s wrists, “you gonna do something stupid when they do?” Dorian lifted both eyebrows and declined to answer. The medic rolled his eyes. “I’ll get my stuff. Chief, you make sure he doesn’t start running.”

The Bull rubbed at the base of his horns, looking oddly sheepish for a mercenary and a kidnapper. “Sorry about that too. Forget sometimes that most horses -- anyway, didn’t mean to bust your wrist when I dropped on you like that. Stitches will fix you up, he’s handled a lot worse than a broken wrist while keeping the lot of us alive.”

Dorian almost reassured him, which was ridiculous. So instead he looked over his shoulder at the mercenaries behind him. If he had imagined being kidnapped before now, the Chargers would not have resembled that daydream. Rather then a group of intimidating men covered in scars and tattoos, the Dalish elf had her feet up on Lieutenant Aclassi’s lap while they enjoyed the re-enactment of some story. The dwarf looked to be playing the part of the Iron Bull, if the amount of flapping arms and snarling was anything to go by. If not for the fact that they were all exceptionally well armed, Dorian wouldn’t have pegged them for mercenaries at all.

Except perhaps the Iron Bull himself, who seemed to have scars enough for all of his men.

“I suppose such carelessness is to be expected from a mercenary who seems to have missed the invention of shirts,” Dorian said. He only realised he’d been staring over long at the Bull’s scars when the man snorted and made one of his pecs bounce. “So, who do I have to thank for this impromptu holiday?” Dorian asked while fighting down his blush. It didn’t really matter who had hired the Chargers, but he would like to know whose reputation to ruin once he made it back to Tevinter.

“Here, he wrote you something.” The Bull reached into one of the pouches hanging from his belt and pulled out a small letter, still fastened with a wax seal. Dorian was glad -- it would make revenge so much easier -- until he saw the Alexius family crest impressed into the wax. His stomach dropped into his stomach as unfolded the letter, taking a bracing breath before he could begin to read.

Once he’d reached the end, Dorian stared at Felix’s letter for a long moment. “You’re telling me that my friend hired a group of thugs--”

“Ruffians!”

“--to kidnap me, to force me to take a holiday?”

“Uh,” the Bull said. “Yes?”

“Absolutely not,” Dorian said and set his hands on fire. When the rope around his wrists fell away he ran for it. He didn’t expect to get very far from men with horses, but he forgot one of those men also had very large wings and a terrible sense of humour. That the Bull didn’t immediately catch up to him was probably because he’d given Dorian a head-start; that he slung Dorian over his shoulder and carried him back to camp was simply uncalled for.

“This is ridiculous!” Dorian yelled, smacking his fist into the Bull’s back. “I’m not going to be hauled away to relax, of all the ludicrous, ill-conceived and poorly-executed schemes!”

The Bull jostled him Dorian until he squawked at the rough treatment. “Relax, big guy,” the Bull said. “We’re not gonna lock you up or anything. Your Felix is a good guy and he paid us to take care of you, and the Charger’s never half-ass a job.”

“Yes, and what a job it has been!” Dorian spat. “I will pay you double what that traitorous bastard offered you. Triple. I will empty my father’s coffers if I must! Now let me go!”

The Bull grunted as Dorian thumped him particularly hard, which was a little gratifying. “You afraid your plants will wilt without you? Or have you got a beau back home, busy pining away and gazing out windows until you get back? Wasting away for want of you?”

“You absolutely ridiculous oaf,” Dorian groaned, letting himself go limp against the Bull.

“You’re telling me a pretty thing like you doesn’t have someone waiting for them? Probably left a string of broken hearts back in Val Royeaux.”

Dorian twitched at the end of his moustache. “It can’t be helped, when one is as handsome and charming as I,” he said a little weakly. The Bull laughed gamely and they carried on in silence for a little while. “The truth is,” Dorian said with a sigh, “my father has been pushing for me to get married. She’s very beautiful and it would be an advantageous match for both families. She is, unfortunately, not my type.”

“What is your type?”

“Men,” Dorian said without preamble. The Bull snorted. “And I’m not interested in pretending otherwise to my father or anyone else. I -- I don’t look forward to returning home and continuing an argument on which I will not and cannot concede.”

“Sounds rough.” Dorian made a vague noise of agreement and wiggled a little, which was less trying to escape than just trying to get comfortable while slung over the Bull’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The Bull adjusted his grip to help him find a position that didn’t make his hip dig into the hard muscle of the Bull’s shoulder. “For what it’s worth, nobody here is out to make you miserable,” the Bull continued, “Felix sent along some books, and the keep’s pretty nice--”

“You have a keep? And not some dank cave half-way up a mountain somewhere?”

“You really have thought about getting kidnapped before, haven’t you?” Dorian spluttered indignantly and the Bull gave him a little squeeze. “Maybe some dragons, but I like to make sure the people I kidnap are comfortable for as long as I’m kidnapping them. It’s all part of the service the Chargers offer.”

Dorian took a moment to truly consider what was being offered here, beyond his initial mortification. A very handsome man was quite literally carrying him away to a private keep to relax. He’d had teenage fantasies brought on by reading too many trashy romance books that were less elaborate than this. It wouldn’t do to look too enthusiastic though. “Does your keep have a wine cellar?” Dorian asked in a carefully bored tone.

“I got some Maraas-Lok I wouldn’t mind sharing,” the Bull said cheerily. Dorian snorted. “I know my boys have some Ferelden beer stashed away somewhere too.”

“Don’t they brew it in bathtubs, for that unique flavour?” Dorian scoffed to hide how much he liked that rustic bathtub flavour.

The Bull sighed loudly. “I guess you can have some of what Felix sent along. I forget what it was called though -- I’m sure I read the label before I drank it all.” The Bull snickered as Dorian tried pinching him. Maker, it was like trying to pinch -- well, a dragon. The shock of being so close to a being so large and powerful, and in such an attractive package, left him breathless again; now that he wasn’t afraid he was about to be eaten, Dorian’s reaction was distinctly more enjoyable.

“How long is my retreat scheduled for?” Dorian asked. He tried to twist on the Bull’s shoulder to see his face. The Bull’s angled his head a little better to see Dorian, careful of his horns, which was really quite considerate of him.

“No more than a couple of weeks,” the Bull said, his single eye narrowing at whatever he saw on Dorian’s face.

“And how does one go about extending their stay? Provided, of course, that the wine proves sufficient.”

The Qunari gave Dorian a ridiculously exaggerated once over, waggling his eyebrows for good measure. “For you? Damn, you’d only have to ask nicely.”

Dorian smirked, and skimmed his fingertips over the muscles he could reach, the scars of the Bull’s shoulders and upper back. He gently pinched the tip of the Bull’s ear, and the Bull made a noise like he’d wanted to groan but had quickly smothered it. “Won’t you kidnap me a little longer?”

The Bull laughed darkly. “You’re dangerous.” Dorian preened a little and was delighted when the Bull’s hold around his waist shifted so his wide palm was resting on his ass. “I can tell we’re gonna get along.”

Dorian had been right; the Bull sounded lovely when he was complimenting him.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be short, too. Whoops? I might add to this with scenes from Dorian's mandatory holiday -- if you've got any ideas, feel free to throw them at me over on my [tumblr](http://personalspin.tumblr.com/).


End file.
